


shadows

by zempasuchil



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-22
Updated: 2010-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:16:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zempasuchil/pseuds/zempasuchil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in the end it really is only shadows that save them</p>
            </blockquote>





	shadows

**Author's Note:**

> That shadow my likeness that goes to and fro seeking a livelihood, chattering, chaffering,  
> How often I find myself standing and looking at it where it flits,  
> How often I question and doubt whether that is really me;  
> But among my lovers and caroling these songs,  
> O I never doubt whether that is really me.  
> \- Walt Whitman

It is safer there, Todd used to feel. That if he slouched in the corner the shadows would cover him and the world would leave him alone. He doesn't need to be anything special. He's not anything special, so he wishes they'd stop trying to make him that.

Even when they talked to him, when Neil talked to him, the light of that recognition stung at first, like alcohol on raw skin.

The way he catches Neil looking at him sometimes ("Truth is like a blanket," he had said, that was all), he wonders if it hurts him too. The caul falling from his eyes. Something newborn and tender. A bundle of nerves.

It used to be he wouldn't want to ask, he wouldn't want to bother. Just let it be, covered in shadows. But suddenly here with Neil and Charlie and the rest, who are all light, he wants to know. To be close. Except the closer he comes to this bright existence the more Neil draws away because he is afraid.

So in the end it really is only shadows that save them, and if Neil's have offended (they don't talk about his father), think but this (a touch in the dark, Todd half asleep lifting the covers, hesitant quivering soft hands, the slit of moonlight on the wall) and all is mended.

Think but this.

Remember this.


End file.
